


when the leaves fall

by burlesquecomposer



Category: Free!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Quiet Sex, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesquecomposer/pseuds/burlesquecomposer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisumi always thinks he's being subtly coy, even though there's absolutely nothing subtle about Kisumi, from the soft but nonetheless shock of his hair to the wiggle in his hips as he takes a seat across Sousuke's thighs, curling around him like a cat greedy for warmth. Maybe he's not aware of it. Except Kisumi's secretly aware of everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the leaves fall

**Author's Note:**

> [ ❄️ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rU7Sq5xjYlo)

"Sou-chan, I'm cold."

Sousuke begrudgingly opens his lap. Kisumi always thinks he's being subtly coy, even though there's absolutely nothing subtle about Kisumi, from the soft but nonetheless shock of his hair to the wiggle in his hips as he takes a seat across Sousuke's thighs, curling around him like a cat greedy for warmth. Maybe he's not aware of it. Except Kisumi's secretly aware of everything.

But this isn't the way it happens. Kisumi takes up the chair space between Sousuke's legs and lies back against him, a sigh coming out of him unevenly, shakily. He's still, enough to allow Sousuke to bring his arms around him to keep his book there instead of set it aside like he usually does. Sousuke's wrists brush against Kisumi's forearms, and it's jarring.

"You _are_ cold," Sousuke says, surprised.

"What, you didn't believe me?" Kisumi's pout is slight, like he's too tired. He must get his energy from the sun, from heat, because now the cold seems to have drained him. There's a shiver in him that goes deeper than the skin, and with his whole body sinking flush against Sousuke's, it's not at all difficult to feel it. The blue of his veins stands out from his skin.

Sousuke slides his bookmark into place and puts his book on the side table. "I'm used to you having an agenda," he says. "How many times in the past week have you been 'cold'?"

"Cold m-means cold this time, I promise." Kisumi stumbles, the chill catching his words as they come out.

"The heater's on. You have sweaters."

"It's better, lying with you."

Sousuke falls silent. Snow is gathering outside, piling up against the windowsill of their Tokyo apartment. Kisumi went out this morning to make angels, bundled up in several layers of cotton and wool, giggling as his hair curled in the pillowy white, laughter soft and clear like bells in the air and rising up to meet the tiny flakes of snow drifting down, down, down. Sousuke let him do what he wanted while he stood back, gloved hands shoved deep into his pockets, crunching the snow under his boots and wondering if it was good enough to pack into snowballs and throw at Kisumi when he least expected it. But he stopped thinking when Kisumi called him, asked him to join in. And even though Sousuke snorted and said no, Kisumi beamed, bright, his eyes going small around peeks of midnight lavender. For the moment, Sousuke forgot snowballs and knew then that Kisumi doesn't need to make angels in the snow — he already is one.

He should want to cherish this silence, because it's rare for Kisumi to not be up and about or loud or chattery or some combination of all of the above. But right now the only thing chattering are Kisumi's teeth, soft back in his molars like he's trying to restrain it, and it's unnatural. Sousuke doesn't like it. He's too cold, too faint, and there's a _reason_ he keeps this boy in his life.

Sousuke tightens his arms around Kisumi and buries his nose into his slender neck, paler than usual. He's freezing.

"Did you go outside again?"

"No."

Sousuke nods, lips brushing against Kisumi's skin, almost catching, Kisumi's hair tickling his cheek as he moves. He inhales, smelling his shampoo — mango something. It's nice.

"You should sleep," he says.

Kisumi's head rolls just a little. "You know that feeling where you're too exhausted to sleep?"

Sousuke sighs, nudging his nose against Kisumi's jaw. He knows the feeling well — he gets it whenever he's stressed out of his mind, and he usually has to go on a run to clear his head. But it's far too thick outside to do any of that, and Kisumi must be restless, cooped up in here.

For all of Kisumi's perceptiveness, he sure as hell isn't as straightforward as he expects everyone else to be.

Kisumi lets out another breath as his head falls back over Sousuke's shoulder, so Sousuke takes the opportunity to softly plant a kiss at his jugular.

"What are you doing~?" Kisumi says with a smile in his voice.

"Shhh," Sousuke murmurs. "No talking."

For once, Kisumi listens. He makes himself comfortable, gently shifts until he slots perfectly against Sousuke. Something about it feels right, Kisumi here in his lap, breathing softly while the storm flurries outside. He can hear the clock on the wall across the room, counting away the careful seconds. The curtain flutters just so with the tiny hair of wind that manages to get through. There's a faint sound of footsteps out in the hall, a passing shadow crossing the space under the front door. The soft twinkle of someone's keys. His tea, sitting on the table, minute by minute losings its warmth even as the steam rises like a whisper.

Kisumi's heart thumps slowly. He can feel it pulsing in his wrists, echoing against his chest.

A minute, or several, or maybe an hour later, Sousuke's hands have wandered under Kisumi's clothes. Kisumi doesn't seem to mind, and he's awake judging by the way he ticks softly up into his touch. But he asks anyway, "Is this okay?" and Kisumi's reply is a hitched "Yeah, please" catching in his teeth. So he keeps going. Somewhere along the way, his hand finds Kisumi's arousal flagging ever so slightly. A few slow, languid tugs are all it takes for him to grasp at Sousuke's thigh, nails audible as they scratch along the seam of his jeans.

Every gasp, every moan, every whine in the back of Kisumi's throat seems so loud in his ears. Yet each one is gentle, given up to the quiet air around them, and Sousuke has never heard anything so sweet and divine. He mouths at Kisumi's jaw and feels him swallow like he has to focus on it, his skin throbbing, quivering under his lips.

Kisumi arches off of him and the cold creeps in between them, making Sousuke realize just how warm he's become. He's writhing ever so slightly and Sousuke pulls him back, keeps him braced with one arm. Kisumi seems drowsily frustrated that he can no longer move, and his other hand comes up to grasp at the nape of Sousuke's neck, but he melts into it all in a matter of moments once he becomes entranced by the circles Sousuke draws into his bare chest with his fingertips.

All Sousuke has to do is swipe his thumb across the head on the up-tug and Kisumi unravels. Like pulling carefully at a loose thread. He draws his legs in a little and he shivers, no longer with cold, the heat of his body now radiating and making Sousuke warmer than he'd bargained for. When he's done, Kisumi releases the breath of air he's been holding, a dulcet mewl latching onto it as it leaves him.

Sousuke can't see him well from where he is, but he watches Kisumi's lashes flutter and the crease between his brows disappear when he finally relaxes.

"Better?"

Kisumi seems to only have enough energy to smirk, his lips curling into the slightest yet warmest of smiles.

"Who needs sweaters when I've got you~?"

"Sap," Sousuke mutters, cleaning his hand off with a nearby tissue.

"You just made love to me, you're the sap."

"It warmed you up, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Kisumi says softly. "Maybe I can finally rest. You tired me out, Sousuke. You have a talent. Maybe you should help me fall asleep every night."

Sousuke frowns. "I think I liked you better when you were quiet."

"You're a terrible liar." Kisumi repositions himself to sit across Sousuke's lap and tucks his head under his chin. "Wake me up when you're hungry and we'll figure out dinner."

"… Tonkatsu?"

"Whatever you want."

Sousuke grunts once and settles into his perch on Kisumi's head. His hair tickles, soft, still smelling of mango something. In a few minutes, judged only as he counts the quiet ticks of the clock across the room, Kisumi's breathing evens out. They're the same size, yet Kisumi feels so small and delicate here and he knows he has to protect him, keep him safe even from small stuff like cold. 

Sousuke glances at his book on the side table and thinks about where he left off. He can't remember.

He sinks back into his chair and lets his eyes fall shut as the snow piles up inside.


End file.
